Little Butch Magazine
On style, presence, identity, and the quiet pleasures of butch life.
One outfit becomes five different looks over the course of a single day as the temps swing from cool to warm and back to cool.
Western Hemisphere.
Early July.
Sweltering weather.
The air thick with flags and grievance.
The summer humidity the least part
of the suffocating atmosphere.
Early summer evening. Smell of wet pavement.
The line forms early — that’s the whole point.
Tickets scanned.
Eyes struggling to adjust to the dark interior.
Heartbeat climbing as the dance floor comes into view.
The thing that limits analog watches is the exact reason I wear one.
They only do one thing — tell time.
Spring Equinox.
Finally.
But after weeks of waiting, it arrives as just another quiet Friday.
Two weeks before the spring equinox.
USDA Zone 6b — two long months before the last frost date.
Still too cold to get into the garden.
From Style
This year instead of mourning the end of summer, I’m trying a Labor Day Reset. A chance to add new habits when the fresh promise of fall makes a new beginning feel like the perfect fit.
From Life
Notes & Musings
Down at the bottom of March, the urge would become impossible to ignore.
We yearned for the sun on our skin.
This is why clothing is such a big deal to me. So many times clothing is actually a reflection of what’s on the inside.
I wrote this poem several years ago. I had spent months slogging through session after session with my therapist trying to make peace with my childhood. Really, I was trying to finally believe that it was alright to be queer.
I remember the first time I heard the word 'butch.' Not just heard it. The first time someone called me butch.